Fathers and Sons
by PerilousPie
Summary: Jake Peralta's father did more than step out, sometimes he was drunk, and at one point he just happened to be too drunk. Jake Peralta loses his mother and Officer Ray Holt finds himself with a five year old problem.
1. Chapter 1

Fathers and Sons

* * *

"We sit in the mud, my friend, and reach for the stars…"

-Ivan Turgenev

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

 **May, 1988**

Officer Ray Holt looked in a quirked annoyance at his partner. To any observer, his face was a picture of impassivity. He was close to a promotion to detective. It had been ten years of putting up with insults, laughter, crude jokes and being constantly passed up because of his orientation and skin color. His current partner was among the worst. Officer Angelo Abruzzo didn't even have the courtesy to be uncomfortably quiet in his spurning of Holt. He was loud, rude, and constantly making jokes about Holt's partner even without knowing his name.

"Hey, Holt, we got a domestic call. Let's head out, fag," Abruzzo said, tone teasing.

The precinct got quiet, uncomfortably quiet. Abruzzo's initially rude comments had been met by laughter from most of the cops, but as the months had gone by and Holt had never reacted and had proved to be one of the most efficient and polite officers, people began to be swayed. At some point Holt had gone from the diseased gay anomaly to the misunderstood underdog. Abruzzo was just too stupid to catch on. In a twisted sort of way it all worked to Holt's advantage.

Holt gave a small nod and stood up, following his partner out of the precinct. They got into the car and headed toward the address.

"I heard you're up for a promotion, Holt," Abruzzo said, a sort of half glare being sent Holt's way.

Holt inclined his head just so as the police car made its way down a suburb street.

"Well, you're a good cop, so, you know, you deserve it," Abruzzo managed.

"I appreciate that sentiment, Officer Abruzzo," Holt returned after a pause.

It seemed he had gained the grudging respect of even his fellow officer. It brought him joy. With how hard he had fought, how many times he had kept his mouth shut against the barrage of abuse that had been thrown at him throughout his career he deserved this, had sweat blood and tears for this. To persevere for such a victory was a feat that few things could compare to. Life was near perfect.

"Uh, we're here," Abruzzo said, stepping out.

"Apparently the next door neighbors made the call, said they heard some shouting and screaming. Common occurrence actually. Danielson and Connors have gotten a few calls down here. Same old story though, the old missus Peralta throws stupid stories about tripping down the stairs, shit like that. Should be a piece of cake."

Unfortunately Abruzzo's comments which ingratiated him to Holt were usually followed by callous comments like that. How domestic abuse could ever be looked upon so lightly was beyond him. He hoped that today Mrs. Peralta would see that her future could be saved and that she didn't need to lie for her husband.

They proceeded through the white picket fence, the old style two story blue and white trimmed house wonderfully picturesque. They walked up the steps to the porch, a bench swing hanging down and swaying gently in the summer breeze. Holt stepped forward and rang the buzzer. The inside of the house was quiet. Except for,

"Wait? You hear that?" Abruzzo said, a frown creasing his face.

Holt paused, straining to listen. It was faint, but there was crying.

"We goin' in?" Abruzzo said, looking to Holt even as he pulled out his piece.

Holt gave a nod. He withdrew his gun and nodded to Abruzzo. Abruzzo tried the door. It was unlocked. Stepping in they were both relieved to see the entryway was completely normal. Turning, they cleared the front room and then moved into the kitchen. Holt froze, taking in the scene before him while Abruzzo promptly turned and began vomiting in the front room. There was blood most everywhere. A woman's body collapsed on the ground, the source of blood a multitude of superficial cuts and abrasions on her body but the obvious cause of death a gaping break of her skull.

There was a shattered bottle of vodka on the floor and the room smelled unpleasantly of blood and alcohol. It was worse though, as a trembling little boy was clinging to the woman's body.

"Abruzzo," Holt called, his voice breaking despite his attempts to sound put together.

"Abruzzo," he said a little louder, moving over to the little boy.

"Call it in, sweep the rest of the house."

There was still crying going on somewhere beyond the kitchen and Holt had no doubt that the husband was sober. Abruzzo managed a shaky nod, softly tiptoeing through the kitchen and into the laundry room. Holt watched his partner for a few moments before turning his full attention to the child. The little boy was maybe four or five. He was hugging his mother's middle and had his face planted in her stomach, once of the few places not marred by an injury.

"Excuse me," Holt spoke, voice low and soft.

The boy's trembling stopped and he tensed up. The little boy's head turned and he stared at Holt with large brown eyes that were rimmed red from crying and more than a little dazed. Anger overcame Holt as he saw the bruises on the boy's face. He could only imagine what lay under the blue jammies the boy was wearing.

"Come here, I will not hurt you," Holt said softly, drawing closer and crouching down with his arms outstretched.

The boy hesitated before flinging himself at Holt, blood stained pyjamas and all. Holt was surprised, almost knocked off balance into the gore, as the boy wrapped himself as tightly as possible around Holt. Holt slowly stood, murmuring quiet, nonsensical assurances to the child.

* * *

"I'm sorry, the child service offices, they're just not open this time of night."

Officer Ray Holt stood in front of the desk, feeling perturbed. The boy was fast asleep in his arms, wrapped in his jacket and face pressed up in the crook of his neck. The sweaty, damp of breath was uncomfortable and Ray's arms were unused to holding this position, even if the weight was negligible.

"Please, ma'am, what am I supposed to do? This boy has nowhere to go," Ray said, feeling desperate.

"Does he have any next of kin?" She asked.

The woman looked sympathetic, she really did, but the child services programs were always bursting full and always severely underfunded, it had only really come into effect a little over ten years prior.

"No," Ray responded.

They hadn't been able to find anything to indicate that Jacob Peralta had family nearby. The processing department was supposed to deal with this, not Ray.

* * *

Abruzzo, after puking his guts up, had brought a handcuffed Mr. Peralta out. The boy had pressed his face into Ray's neck upon seeing his father and hiccuping sobs had emerged from him. Several more squad cars showed up once Abruzzo called it in and everything had fallen into here and now where Ray stood in front of the processing department secretary at ten at night.

* * *

The woman was packing her bag up and stepping away. Ray had no idea what he was supposed to do. He was swept outside and into the cold by the locked doors. The child shivered and unconsciously curled closer to Ray's warmth.

Ray stood, unsure and lost as he pondered what to do. He had nowhere to put the child, he very well couldn't bring him home, but at this point, aside from dumping the boy on the police steps, there wasn't much else he could do.

* * *

Kevin Cozner found the educational niche he existed in more open to the wide cast of human characteristics, even the ones called deviant and strange, that existed in society. Literature was a study of the pulsing wound of humanity and prolific writers such as Nabokov, Mann, and de Sade touched upon the topics and manifestations of human behavior that many, even in their progressive world, refused to acknowledge. His own sexual orientation was no secret, nor the idea of such 'deviancy', as it was proclaimed by some. However, despite the greater acceptance in the literary community, this wasn't much of a margin and prejudice abounded.

Kevin stood proudly though, a muted figure willing to endure if just to see a light for some future generation. He loved his partner fiercely, and for that he paid a secondary price, for Ray Holt, despite all of his virtues, was subjected to one of the most fickle yet most damaging parts of human nature. It seemed impossible to take on racism and homophobia, yet Kevin watched his partner face it with a stalwart attitude day in and day out, a small immovable hope fueled by determination.

As such he trusted his partner, and believed in the man's judgement.

The door to their shared apartment opened and Kevin looked up from his book. Carefully he placed a soft leather bookmarker in between the pages and shut it. Setting it down on the coffee table he looked up expectantly.

Ray stepped in from the hall, a bundle in his arms and a small head of brown curls nested against him. Kevin froze, staring at the anomaly and attempting to process it. Ray waited, unable to get his voice to cooperate with his mind.

"Ray, you are home," Kevin stated.

"Yes," Ray returned.

There was an awkward beat.

Kevin stood and approached Ray, looking doubtfully at the child.

"This is Jacob Peralta," Ray said.

Kevin blinked, leaning forward to study the boy. His face pulled into a frown as he saw blood flecked on the child's face. He looked in question at his partner.

"I will explain," Ray promised.

Kevin gave a small nod. The two then stepped toward the guest room, minds working toward the same conclusion. Kevin turned the covers down on the bed and Ray gently shifted the child from his shoulder and onto the bed. Kevin's face creased further as he saw the rest of the boy, the bruises and the blood.

Ray pulled the covers over the boy, having decided against cleaning him up, no idea if the event would be more disturbing after such a traumatic event.

The two stepped away and Ray followed Kevin back out into the front room.

"There was an incident tonight, a domestic violence call, th-the mother was dead and he did not have-" Ray stopped short and his gaze became distant.

Kevin gave a small nod of understanding.

"Ray, this is," Kevin paused, trying to bring his thoughts into order, "compromising."

Ray looked over at his partner, face looking grave and serious but such that Kevin could see the plea for understanding.

"You have to think of us, our position," Kevin started.

Ray gave a small nod.

"Of course, it's only for tonight, it was late and there was no one to take him."

Kevin looked to the floor.

"Alright," Kevin conceded.

They both went to bed.

* * *

Crying woke Ray. It was still night and the moon was casting light through the slatted window frame. Kevin was still asleep and Ray slipped out of bed without disturbing him. The crying lead him to the guest room where the impromptu guest was curled up under the blankets crying. Ray felt at a loss.

Carefully he sat on the bed. The child stilled immediately. About thirty seconds passed before a corner of the blanket lifted and brown eyes peeped out.

"Who're you?" The boy whispered.

Ray tried to think on what the best answer would be that the child would actually recognize.

"You're the guy, the po'ice guy?" The boy queried, scrutinizing Ray.

Ray nodded. The boy gave a nod and the blankets were released some so a little bit of hair poked out. Apparently the boy trusted Ray enough to do so.

"Where's mama?" The boy asked.

"She is not here," Ray responded.

The boys eyes teared up.

"But who'll scare the monsters away?" He asked, lip trembling.

"If it is monsters you are afraid of, then I can assure you that none reside here," Ray assured.

The boy shook his head and the blanket slid off to reveal the rest of his curled head.

"No, they're under the bed, and-and they'll eat me and-and-" the boy was on the verge of a breakdown.

"No, I will not let them," Ray tried to say.

The boy however just began bawling, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"No, no crying, there are no monsters," Ray said, he hesitated a moment before leaning forward and scooping the child into his arms.

The boy clung to him.

"There are no monsters here," Ray said again, looking down at the boy, a hand rubbing the child's back comfortingly.

The boy started to quiet and he looked up at Ray.

"P'omise?" He asked.

Ray gave a solemn nod. The boy nodded back, satisfied. A few peaceful moments passed before the boy shuffled around so he could look at Ray.

"I'm Jake, are you batman?" The boy asked this while looking up with wide, curious eyes.

Ray blinked, unsure of who batman was. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing to be asked the question. When Ray didn't answer the boy just nodded.

"Thats'kay, batman can't tell his iden'ty to anyone anyhow," the boy replied seriously.

He patted Ray's arm before leaning up against Ray further. The sound of footsteps had Jake stiffening with fear and Ray turned to see a bleary eyed Kevin looking with interest at the two.

"You are up," Kevin stated.

Neither of the two men were overly familiar with children, the AIDS epidemic and the wanton and false rumours over how it spread being only one of many reasons that even their own family was unwilling to bring their children around them.

Jake was peering fearfully at Kevin, weighing if the man was dangerous.

"Who's he?" Jake whispered to Ray.

"He is my partner," Ray responded.

Jake frowned, "Like Robin?"

Ray didn't respond, still baffled by the strange references the boy was making, it must be something colloquial to children. Jake once again drew his own conclusions and gave a nod.

"Hi," Jake said shyly.

Kevin smiled back, if a little uncomfortably.

"I'm Jake," Jake introduced himself.

Kevin nodded, "I am Kevin."

Jake nodded like there was a secret understanding between the two. 'Kevin' was obviously Robin's cover name.

"Where's mama?" Jake asked again, brow crinkling in fear again.

"She is not here," Ray reminded him.

The boy nodded, wide fearful eyes darting from Kevin to Ray before he curled up once again closer to Ray.

"Daddy was mad again," he whispered.

Ray had no response, merely allowing the child to grip his shirt and cling to him. The swing in moods was a little strange, but Ray had no idea if this was normal behavior for children in general, or a response to what had happened.

"You need to rest, Jacob," Ray said.

The boy shook his head, "I'm not tired," he confessed.

Ray fixed the child with a recriminating look and the boy squirmed.

"If I gotta, can I sleep with you?" Jake asked.

Ray was surprised yet again and had no response. Kevin swooped in.

"Of course you can, we will not leave you alone," he reassured.

Jake nodded and Ray looked curiously at his partner. Kevin was not an intimate person, he didn't share space and when he did it took time to adjust.

"You'll come too?" Jake asked hopefully.

Kevin nodded. What child didn't want to keep two heroes, if imaginary, by their side?

* * *

I am not a child psychologist, my knowledge of the 80's is limited and my representations therefore may be fictional. End all though, I hope the readers enjoy. There is a possibility that other characters might eke in, however I want to set that up.


	2. Chapter 2

Synopsis: Jake Peralta's father did more than step out, sometimes he was drunk, and at one point he just happened to be too drunk. Jake Peralta loses his mother and Officer Ray Holt finds himself with a five year old problem.

* * *

Fathers and Sons

* * *

"We sit in the mud, my friend, and reach for the stars…"

-Ivan Turgenev

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

May, 1988

The night passed relatively quietly. Jake, once settled on the bed between the two, went to sleep quickly. Ray however found sleep wouldn't come and noticed that it didn't for his partner either. After some time the two gave up on trying to sleep.

"It often happeth, that the very face sheweth the mind walking a pilgrimage, in such wise that other folk sodainly say to them a peny for your thought," Kevin said softly, voice musing.

Ray couldn't help the smile which came onto his face.

"And yet he seemed so far from hearing the thoughts of those who spoke or believed contrary to him," Ray replied.

Kevin shifted, causing the blanket to ripple and the barred moonlight to contort in a dance across their bedspread.

"It seems a necessary evil that the many figures of history portray such a contradiction, More being one of them," Kevin replied.

There was silence and the two men grew very still as the child between them stirred slightly, a small little plaintive moan sounding out. Jake wriggled in discomfort, still asleep but obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Instinctively Ray reached out and stroked the boy's head of curls. The child stilled and Ray pulled the covers up a little so they came over the boy completely.

"It does seem strange," Kevin began quietly, watching Jake with sad eyes, "that some are so willing to throw away what we work so hard for."

They were both being strangely sentimental. Their relationship was always muted, a natural occurrence from their own personalities but also from the need to represent an epitome of respect. How else were they to gain regard and at least humane treatment from people? Being gay they were subclass, or in more succinct words: sub-human. On top of that they were an interracial couple, yet another thing which lead to them even being treated poorly among their own community. So a stoic view was adopted, cool and unemotional. If they weren't careful they would end up old and being as stiff and emotionless as they acted.

"It will come," Ray said with quiet certitude.

Kevin's gaze slid to the side but he reached a hand out across the duvet and brushed Ray's arm. Ray's own hand found Kevin's and gripped it.

* * *

Ray woke early in the morning and was in the kitchen preparing coffee when Kevin stepped in. Ray frowned when he saw that Kevin was not showered or dressed impeccably as he usually was before he entered the dining room but instead Kevin was in his pajamas appearing adorably ruffled with Jake Peralta's arms wrapped around his neck.

"Jake started crying, he did not want to be left alone, and considering the events of yesterday, I-" Kevin let out a small sort of tutting sigh, remonstration being aimed at Ray along with a tinge of embarrassment which only increased Ray's amusement and enjoyment of the scene.

He didn't often get to see his partner so ruffled. Jake however appeared timid and tired, arms wrapped tightly around Kevin. Apparently, despite the child's experience, he had decided to quickly trust the man.

"I will be taking him in today," Ray said, carefully beginning the preparation of breakfast.

Kevin nodded and then did something utterly surprising.

"I will get Jake cleaned up," Kevin said to Ray before turning to the child in his arms.

"If you would tell me exactly what aid you will need when bathing, I can appropriate the necessary items and lend assistance as needed," Kevin said to Jake.

The boy shook his head, "I don't like baths."

Kevin's brow raised imperiously and Ray's lips quirked the small centimeter necessary to make a smile.

"I am afraid, Mr. Peralta, that if you want to continue living among civilized society, and most indeed within my house, you must take a bath," Kevin's voice brooked no argument and a small pout came on the boy's face but he acquiesced by nodding his head.

Kevin locked eyes with Ray for a moment, giving a small nod of the head. Ray continued preparing breakfast while he heard his partner headed to their guest bathroom.

* * *

Kevin Cozner was not the kind of man who had ever been interested much by children. As a child, he had matured quickly and had awkwardly gone through his youth knowing that he was different from others around him. When he entered college that difference became a reality which he slowly realized; his zeal for the literary world, his quiet composed nature, and of course his sexuality. Graduation had been a split from his family and from the world at large, a world that betrayed him over something so simple. Due to both his occupation, his reserved nature and his sexuality, he couldn't recall a time when he had ever dealt with children.

So it had been an unpleasant shock when Ray had brought a child home.

His choice the evening before to allow Jake to stay had been impulse, a desire to calm his partner, to take away the quivering discontent which Ray's work as a policeman had evoked. So he had humored the traumatized child. It's strange how quickly sentiment can act. By morning, Kevin had woken to a warm ball of mass pressed against his side. It was most definitely not Ray. It had taken Kevin a few moments to realize that his limpet was the boy, Jake.

When he had tried to remove himself from the situation the boy had clung tighter, mumbling something about 'Robin' and 'bad guys'. Kevin had acquiesced.

Now he was in the bathroom, trying to understand the complicated contraption known generally as the footsie. Jake was absolutely no help; the five year old was unwilling to bath and therefore feigning ignorance while trying to stay as physically close to Kevin as possible.

"I cannot help you get your foot out unless you lift your leg up," Kevin explained with thinning patience.

Jake lifted his foot half-heartedly and started to put it back down before Kevin could completely get the dirty blue footsie off. Kevin let out a quick breath of frustration and Jake lifted his foot, reading the man's annoyance.

When Jake was finally in the bath, he wouldn't let go of Kevin's hand. Kevin didn't have the heart to make him. Kevin wasn't sure how one was supposed to bathe a five year old, but common sense determined that leaving a five year old alone in a bathtub wasn't safe.

He had never yelled for Ray before, doing so was demeaning and spoke of uncultured behavior. Kevin found himself calling as softly as possible for Ray.

His partner appeared in the doorway, a question on his face.

"Please take Jake's attire to the wash, I am afraid that we have nothing else for him to wear," Kevin said this as he helped Jake soap his hair.

"Of course," Ray responded, stepping forward in his police uniform and grabbing the dirty blue footsie from off the ground.

It was all strangely domestic.

Somehow, Jake ended up dressed once again, in the now clean footsie. Kevin was still in his pajamas and they were soaked. Jake had fallen asleep and was now laying on the couch, a throw blanket tucked around him.

Kevin went over and picked up Jake. He brushed the boy's soft, brown curls, before handing him over to Ray.

"I will see you after work," Kevin said.

Ray nodded, face impassive, an unreadable smile just showing for his partner. Kevin smiled back.

* * *

Ray left the house and arrived at the police department just before nine in the morning. Where he worked, the government services were squashed together among a string of buildings in Brooklyn. There was busy street activity, a minimal of parking, and the joy of poor labeling. One was apt to be lost among the buildings, searching for the DMV but happening upon the marriage license office. For most people this was terribly infortuitous, for Ray at the moment it was quite fortunate.

The child services office was small and at the moment crowded. Ray worked the swing shift and had anticipated the business of Jake Peralta to be one which took a while. He stood in line for nearly an hour before reaching the front. When he described his situation, the woman asked for the case number, the situation, all of Jake's papers. Ray had none of this and tried to patiently explain the situation to her. She swept him to the side, telling him that the situation required so and so's help and she would call him up when so and so was available.

Ray sat down and Jake woke up. The little boy complained about being hungry, something Ray had anticipated by packing lunch and breakfast for himself and the boy. Eating took up twenty minutes thankfully, the poppy seeds needed to be chewed on individually and at some point Jake had turned them into soldiers marching across the napkin in an all out war. Ray meanwhile patiently sat on the chair next to the battle scene and waited.

Nearly an hour later they were called up once again. A petite red-head met them and showed them to the back. The office was cramped and smelled slightly off. Jake was being carried by Ray.

"I'm May Whitley, I oversee the office here in Brooklyn." She extended a hand and Ray grasped it.

"Officer Ray Holt, this is Jake Peralta," Ray replied, taking a seat.

Jake smiled shyly at Whitley.

"If you'll explain your situation, I'll try to help as much as possible."

Ray proceeded to explain. By the end Whitley had a serious look on her face. She already appeared frazzled and exhausted, an intelligent woman who was overworked in an ungrateful environment.

"I'm going to be frank with you Mr. Holt, you seem like a good person, but that isn't something which anyone is going to reward you for," Whitley leaned forward in her chair and cast a serious gaze at the two of them.

"There's no room for Jake, we literally have nowhere to place him, or any other child at the moment. This program is underfunded, generally the best we get from the public is disinterest, the worst is conservative's which think we're some kind of homebreakers," Whitley let out a humorless bark and shook her head.

"If anything I think people do a grand job of breaking their own homes. The point is that the best we could do is stick Jake in an overcrowded room with at the least four other kids who could be from any background and of any age. Kids disappear, shit happens. Or you could wait until we get an opening, something which could take months."

Whitley looked at Ray over steepled fingers, a mirthless and world weary look on her face.

"I understand," Ray replied, thoughts going crazy in his mind, "I would take Jake in but," Ray stopped, deliberating a response.

"You're black?" Whitley hazarded a guess as to Ray's possible issues with that.

"I don't give a shit, hell, no one does, they put up a fight over interracial adoption but they don't care if the kid ends up on the street. Let's you know about the priorities of the government."

Ray wasn't quite liking how this interview was going.

"You have a job? You don't have time for a kid? No one does," Whitley said, shaking her head. She stood and prepared to show Ray out.

"Well, thank you for coming in. I have a few papers for you to sign and we'll take Jake off your hands."

Ray stiffened, aware that all of this was being said in front of Jake who was awake and aware.

"Thank you, but if Jake could stay with me," Ray paused, unsure of how to pose his statement.

Whitley looked sharply at him and seemed to be deliberating something.

"I can draw up the paperwork," she said.

"Until a spot can be found," Ray finished.

Whitley was quiet, a small amused smile coming on her face.

"Of course," she replied as she moved over to the filing cabinet.

"I can get you the right paperwork for now, but I'll need his information and formal documents from the case. I assume you'll be able to get that for me since you are over it."

Ray nodded. Jake had been messing with the back of Ray's collar amusing himself with tiny noises of explosions and other sounds as his fingers did flips and tumbles.

The paperwork was drawn up and Ray was soon enough stepping out of the office and outside. He was struck suddenly by the fact that he had not consulted his partner about this, at all. Also, Ms. Whitley, no matter her lack of prejudice to his skin color, he had no idea of her thoughts on his orientation.

He had never taken risks, at least not risks like this. When he did take risks they were deliberated ones, things like telling his parents about his first partner, things like choosing to be openly gay in the police force. This was spontaneous and crazy. Kevin wasn't going to be happy.

Ray went home, driving his Holden Camira through the traffic. Kevin was currently on sabbatical from the college so he spent his time at home and doing various projects. Ray had work in a few hours and he was going to have to leave Jake with Kevin.

It worried him, relationships between gay men were difficult at best, the stress being something which broke even the closest of people. This whole situation qualified for a reason to break it off. They'd been together for little over a year.

"Batman?"

Ray was pulled from his musings and looked in the back mirror. Jake was buckled up, without a car seat, in the back seat of the car.

"Yes Jacob?" Ray replied.

"Where's mama? Is she okay? Dad hurt her again and, where is she?" Jake asked, looking more and more upset.

Ray took in a breath, chest tight.

"She's not here, she's resting," Ray said in an even tone.

Jake gave a nod, but tears were in his eyes and soon Ray could hear tiny sobs being muffled by little arms.

Ray pulled the car over, horns sounding out. Unbuckling he turned around and faced the crying child. Ray leaned to unbuckle Jake and the boy clasped his arms around Ray's neck. Ray pulled him to the front of the car and held him, gently comforting the boy.

* * *

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